


One Time Thing

by chubbyhawke



Series: DA Modern AUs [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bull and Dorian are rival restaurant owners, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Everything you can expect when you put Bull and sex together, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired By Tumblr, Life is hard for these boys, Light BDSM, Love/Hate, M/M, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Now Dorian is married to Felix Alexius...., Past Brain Trauma, Past Divorce, Past Relationship(s), Personality Disorder, Sort of a song fic?, Who used to be married at a time, but that's not going so well either, sort of not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbyhawke/pseuds/chubbyhawke
Summary: "Somebody told me you were mean."Dorian Pavus owns the best restaurant for fine dining in Thedas, but right up at the top with him is the notorious Iron Bull who owns a family bar and grill just across the street. Married once and divorced nearly a decade ago, the two have grown to hate each other with an insatiable passion, one always doing everything he can to out do the other. Now going through his second divorce, stress has really started bring Dorian down. When the two happen across each other at the bar and Bull offers more than a little of his usual flirtatious charm, Dorian decides to release his inhibitions, and see where the night leads him.





	1. Changing Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> i'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS FOR SOOO LONG.... I'M SO EXCITED TO FINALLY /DO/ IT. This will definitely be an on-going series, not a short cliff-hanger ending or a one-shot or anything like that. I'm gonna dedicate myself to this (sort of like I dedicate to all my other fics... huh). However, I had this idea already after listening to the song that's the title's name sake by The Airborne Toxic Event and it made me think of these two. Then I saw this massive post on tumblr about these directors talking about a series they would do if they could make whatever they wanted to and I also thought of these two and... here we are. Welcome to my own personal layer of hell, and I hope you enjoy your stay 
> 
> (Please please please leave comments!!!!! Nothing motivates me to update more than your feedback.)

_**“** Good people don't always fall in love with someone good, but bad people are bound to fall in love with some one worse._ **"**

― Jonathan Frandez

 

 _Imperial Gardens..._  his pride and joy. He'd saved up the money for this place his entire life, despite his father's wishes, and now here he was. At the very top of the restaurant industry- wait, no... _almost_ at he very top of the restaurant industry. But, he'd rather not talk about that for longer than he had to. That little bitty fact didn't erase the fact of his success, nor could it. He didn't have anything when he left his father and Tevinter behind to start this business. Well, he had his ex-husband, Iron Bull, but again, he would rather not talk about that for longer than he had to. 

Someone rasped gently on the door frame to his private office where he'd been lost in his paperwork, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He was snatched out of his thoughts, looking wide-eyed up at his visitor, just to realize it had only been one of the serving girls; Sera. And not just any serving girl, she would remind him, the _Head Waitress_. She made no secret of puffing up her ego with the title. "Shitface is here to see you," she said, sticking out her tongue to show her distaste. Sera was one of Dorian's best and only friends. Her vulgar language and criticism usually _lifted_ his mood... but not today, it seemed. 

He set down his pen, groaning audibly and letting his head fall into his hands. As if he didn't have enough to deal with right now, what with the winter coming up and the first days of December edging closer and closer up on his calendar. Presently, he was trying to fill out the forms for the weeks truck order and the next week's advertising campaigns. They'd just run out of potatoes and soon the place would fall apart without them, for sure. Perhaps he could send one of the dishwashers to pick up some, Cole always seemed willing to run errands for him. 

"What did he say?" he finally answered, hardly turning his head to look at her. 

Sera rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she props herself lazily up against the door. "'If he wanna divorce so god damn badly, he's gotta come out of that office and sign some fuckin paperwork every once an' a while.'" Her voice went up into her noise as she mocked Felix's words, lip curling up into a snarl. It would have been hilarious if it weren't so disturbingly accurate. 

"You don't sound like your exaggerating this time," Dorian sighed. 

"Nope, quote end _quote_ from Mr. Feces Alexis Primbottom II," she huffed, tapping her fingers against her bicep. "Ya prob'ly shouldn't keep 'im waitin. He'll... start bleedin out his ears and tear off the doors to the place or somethin." 

"Now, that, I should like to see," he laughed, pushing himself up and out of his chair. "Thanks, Sera." 

"Dunno why yer thankin' me, but whatever, I guess," she shrugs, turning back down the hall into the dining room to attend to customers. "See ya later, flappy tits." With an attitude like hers, it was impossible to think that she could even work a job like this one, let alone be good at it. The Maker must have a sick sense of humor. 

Dorian glanced briefly at his reflection in the window to his office. He never dressed TOO nice to work, as a rule. Just some skinny jeans to show off his assets, and a nice white chef's shirt to show his appreciation for the work that he and his employees did and, of course, just who was in charge of this joint. He shouldn't have worried about how he looked, it was just Felix after all. But he was a man devoted to looking absolutely flawless in every scenario, as long as it could be helped, of course. 

Felix was standing right outside of the 'Employee's Only' door whenever Dorian came out, arms crossed over his chest and his lips pulled tight. He had a manila folder tucked under the pit of one of his arms, his glare settling heavy on the other man like led weights as soon as he closed the door behind him. He took in Felix's disheveled appearance, the warm lighting of the room accentuating the deep scars over the right side of his face. Dorian could remember the man that Felix was before he got those scars, the man that he'd fallen in love with all of those years ago. That man... that was gone. In his place, a hollow shell of the good person that Dorian had once known. Hardly a man at all. 

"There you are," he huffed, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders. He pulls out his manila folder, waving it in Dorian's face. "We need to go over these. That attorney needs them by the end of the week." 

Dorian pushed the papers away, back towards Felix with a long, drawn out sigh. "This can wait, you know," he said, his tone low. 

"Oh, yeah? _Can_ it?" Felix narrowed his eyes, voice raising to a shout. "What about throwing this divorce in my face, huh? Couldn't that have waited until after my father's ashes got cold? Or do you pride yourselves in making people's lives as completely fucking miserable as possible?" 

The eyes of the patrons in the restaurant had drifted to them now, and Dorian could feel the anxiety twisting around inside him. He gently takes the folder out of the other man's hands, nodding to the door. "Alright, alright, let's... not here, alright, Felix? This is my place of business." 

Felix scoffs, shaking his head. "Right. Of course. Your precious  _'place of business'._ " 

They walk together out of the restaurant in complete silence. Dorian doesn't want to go back to their house, everything there is a reminder of the life he once had, when Felix was... Felix. Not this _beast_. It's gloomy outside and relatively chilly considering that it's late autumn, so he decides on the park. It's completely empty at this time of year, aside from a few dog walkers. Dorian sets the folder down at a picnic table, rolling his sleeves up around his elbows as he takes a seat. Felix begrudgingly sits across from him, the frown cracking his features never ceasing. 

"How was your day, Felix?" Dorian asked with a forced smile, trying to sound as warm and kind as he possibly can without sounding completely fake. 

The other man softens a little at this, but not much. "Good, actually, until I got the phone call from the attorney," he said. "I got to watch that movie again, they were playing it on TV. You know... that silent film?" 

Dorian smiled, but this time, it was a real one. "The Artist?" he chuckles at the memories, looking past Felix and up toward the trees, golden and orange- those still with leaves anyways. "Now, that was our movie," he hummed, "I remember how much you hated it at first, as well." 

"It's a masterpiece," Felix replied, smiling as well. For a moment, Dorian could've swore he saw that look in his eyes that he'd been longing to see since that car accident that killed Felix's father and permanently damaged his brain, completely changing his mind and personality for good. "but, at first, I only ended up liking it because of my company. I had to watch it for a second time, the first time I wasn't... completely paying attention." 

"I remember," Dorian propped his chin on his elbow, looking back toward the other man, observing his deep chocolate brown eyes. "I am quite distracting, aren't I?" 

"You never let me forget," Felix laughed, but his grin quickly vanished when his gaze fell back to the folder that lay untouched in between them on the table. He reached like he was about to open it, and then hesitated. "Dorian, I-" 

"Felix, don't," he interrupted, giving the man a sharp look. "We've been over this." 

He went back to frowning again, and nodded. "Whatever." He finally opens the folder, shoving several packets of paperwork towards Dorian. "Here. Read up." 

Dorian takes the paperwork in his hand, grabbing his glasses from his pocket and putting them back on. The beginning was the normal disclaimer, legal information, liberties and what not. Enclosed in the document, however, were several documents regarding the ownership statements of their cars, Felix claiming his own car, of course, and then the-... wait, _what?_  His jaw nearly fell down onto the table. "You... you want the restaurant?" he gaped. "You have no _claim_ over that. I raised money for-" 

"If it weren't for my father, your restaurant would have crashed and burned by the end of the first summer. How else would you have dealt with the AC going down the drain? That article the food critic wrote about your baked lasagna? The roach infestation? You didn't have the money to fix all of that. If you had never met me, you wouldn't be _shit,_ Dorian. Those things individually should have taken you out of business in a heartbeat, and you know it." 

"A-and- my boat? What in Andraste's name do you want with my boat? You get sick just looking at the damned thing," Dorian stammered, staring in horror at the paper work as he kept turning the pages. "The house too? Do you intend to leave me with anything at all?" 

"Your dignity," Felix said flatly. "you're the one who's leaving me, after all. Oh, and your car, too." 

Dorian shook his head, pushing the paper away from him. "I-... I can't, Felix. There's no way in the Maker's good name that I'm going out like... like _this._ " 

"What choice do you have, Dorian?" Felix leaned closer to him, elbows on the table. "You know I'm right. Without me, you couldn't even afford that stupid ass boat, or even that condo in Rivain. Everything you own, you only have it because of me." 

"So what? You're doing this out of... _spite?!_ " 

"Maybe," he growled. "Or, maybe I'm trying to give you second thoughts."

"Hah! So, so-... you're going to _rob me_ back into your bedroom? How _charming,_ " he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you even... damn it, you're even trying to take my _cat?_ " 

"You-" 

"No, shut up," Dorian snapped, grabbing the papers in his hands again and pulling them apart, sorting them into two sloppy piles. "Listen here, Felix. This is how it's going to be. You can _have_ the house, for all I care, and that condo in Rivain. But I'm keeping my restaurant, I'm keeping my boat, and I'm keeping my fucking cat."

"Half of the restaurant's current investment value, and you keep the boat," Felix bargained, eyes narrowing. " _and_ your stupid cat." 

"So now I need to pay _you?_ " Dorian cackles and shakes his head, hardly able to believe his ears. "That's... that's more than what I paid for the attorney!" 

"That, or, I take everything," Felix folded his hands together, posturing for some sort of super villain trope. "It's up to you." 

"Listen, Felix," he pleaded, eyes softening. "I know that it was... bad timing, but-" 

 _"Bad timing?"_ the other snapped. "It was 4 weeks after my father's funeral!" 

"You turned into a _monster,_ Felix," he said. "That accident... it changed you. You know that." 

"Aren't you supposed to love me no matter what?" Felix argued. "'Together until death do us part, in sickness and in health'?"

"You _hit me,_ Felix. You tried to convince me that Varric was out to get me, and you were going to throw my car keys into Lake Calenhad before I stopped you. Do you think _any_ of that behavior is excusable?" 

"I love you, Dorian, and I was _grieving_. I made some stupid mistakes. I can _fix_ it. I can-" 

"No, you can't," Dorian hissed. "I'll give you the money, but just so that we have one less court hearing to go to, and the faster I can get this over with." He snatches the pen and signs different parts of the paperwork. When he's done, he pushes himself out of his seat and turns away, not looking at the other man still sitting at the picnic table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Alexius, I have restaurant to run." 

 

* * *

 

The day drug by slowly after Dorian returned to work. He was practically counting the minutes until closing time. When his bookkeeper finally arrived to help him through the last bit of the paperwork like she normally did, she immediately took notice to the other man's stress. He supposed he must not have been doing as good of a job of hiding it as he'd thought. Vivienne took the chair beside his in the office, making a distasteful grunt as she observed the mess. When Dorian took a seat, she gave him another once over and sighed, standing up to close the door after him and lock it. 

"Dorian, darling," she said as she returned to her seat. "This stress is _destroying_ your complexion. What happened, my dear?" 

He said nothing for several long moments, only staring down at the piles of paperwork. "Felix," he answered finally, clicking his pen. "he wants half of the investment value of Imperial Gardens, or else he's taking the entire place from me. And my boat. And Lucius." 

"Oh my," she gaped, taking a moment to register the information. "This is... shocking, indeed." 

"Quite." 

Vivienne looked down at the lazily finished truck orders, handwriting chicken scratching compared to Dorian's normal calligraphy. She pushed it off to another pile, turning her attention back to the man sitting beside her. "I remember your first divorce," she said, jotting something down with a pen. "That was a lot easier. All he asked for was his half of the money, and then the man never bothers you again." 

"Never bothers me again?" Dorian scoffed. "That money is what got him that stupid grill across the road, Vivienne. That's half the cause of my grey hairs." 

She clicks her tongue, reaching over to run her fingers through the Tevinter man's locks. He had started to grey slightly at the temples. He would have had it dyed and covered up if he had the money and the time. Varric said it gave him a bit of rustic charm. Dorian never thought he'd be the sort. Grey hair? A Pavus? Perish the thought. Even his parents kept chemicals in their hair until their late eighties and hospitals kept them out of salons. 

"This business wouldn't be a game if there were no competitors, Dorian," she said as she turned back to the papers. "It's half the fun, my dear." 

He had to admit, he would always get a little thrill when he noticed that there were more cars parked outside of his lot than Bull's. People came from all of Thedas to eat Dorian's food, but the same could also be said of Bull. Their love of the restaurant buisiness and good food had been what first brought them together when they met over 15 years ago in Tevinter. That was... not a thought for the moment, however. 

Every year, they usually planned a big special event nearing Christmas time. They opened the restaurant up for attendees from the local homeless shelters and they fed all of them a 3 course meal, including desert, for free. It took a while to raise up money for the event, but it was Dorian's favorite part of the year, despite the arrangements that had to be made, the donations that had to be gathered, and, of course, the paperwork. 

That's what Vivienne was going over right now, they were preparing advertisements for their donation campaign in order to build money for the event. Bull did something similar for Christmas, but for orphans and foster children rather than the homeless. They were equal acts of kindness, easily, but it seemed to be another bit of their endless competition, never the less. 

"I could take you to see a friend of mine sometime soon," Vivienne offered, breaking the shared silence. "She runs a spa as well as a salon. She can fix those temples for you, darling." 

"I... would like that, actually," he admitted, feeling a little sheepish at her generosity. "When would we go?" 

"Sunday, perhaps," she hummed, looking at him in the corner of her eye. "Does that work for you, my dear?" 

"It does," he said. "Thank you, Vivienne." 

"No need to thank me," she assured. "The sight of your disheveled state is making me lose sleep at night, dear. It is as much for me as it is for you." 

 

* * *

 

His drive home that night was uneventful. Well, it wasn't exactly "home", but it was close enough. It was an apartment he'd rented out after confronting Felix about the divorce. He had most of his belongings here, including his beautiful, spotted Cornish Rex, Lucius. He'd paid a great deal of money to get this cat from a breeder with a sterling reputation, and every dollar he'd spent was worth it. The fact that Felix would want to take this from him, his love, pride, and joy... it made him sick to the stomach. 

Lucius mewled up at him as he came home and Dorian happily pulled the creature into his arms, kissing his cheeks and scratching his big, satellite ears. "I know you can't stand this cramped place either, my boy," he murmured as he sat down on the couch, kicking off his shoes. "but, we'll make it through this. Don't you doubt it." 

Lucius purred, swinging his tail and nuzzling Dorian before choosing the spot on the couch beside him, curling into a ball against his thigh. Even with his beloved rex, Dorian couldn't help but feel... lonely. He'd been with Felix for 7 years. That's a long time of waking up beside some one every morning, always having some one bring you a cappuchino in bed just the way he knew you liked it, coming home to flowers on the table when the other man couldn't make it home from work.

When he'd met Felix, he'd truly believed that would be it for him. That would be the love of his life, that would be the piece that made the whole puzzle complete. And then... there was the accident. He was at his mid fourties now, in several years he'd be putting the candle on fifty. There wasn't a dating pool for people like him, not like there was when he was in his twenties. Back then, it was practically everyone. You could be as picky as you liked and there were no consequences. 

Now, it was a shallow puddle filled with creeps, or age appropriate men who were either using you to have an affair or have a one night stand with no intentions to ever see you again. Dorian wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to go back to the wild days of his twenties where he went to gay bars and got so drunk that he couldn't stand straight. It was different now, if Dorian did that now... and some one recognized him, Maker forbid, he'd be ruined. 

He supposed he would just... he'd have to be lonely for the rest of his life. That was the only solution. Maybe have a one night escape with the companionship of an uncommon other who suited his interests and charmed his way past Dorian's barriers. His only permanent companion would be Lucius. He didn't like the idea, not at all, but he supposed if he had to be the one to make his own coffee in the mornings from now on, he would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An introductory chapter, just to give you an idea of Dorian's situation. Next is Bull!!! and our awaited moment in the bar where Bull and Dorian actually talk to one another for the first time in 10 years ; ) 
> 
> Please comment if you liked it! I love your feedback and I will graciously smother you with appreication and praises if you do ;;


	2. Potatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight on Bull's side of life. Cole is very easily confused.

_**"** To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. **"**_

_—_ Federico García Lorca

 

 _The Chargers_ was easily the best decision Bull had ever made in his life. When Dorian left him, it was hard for him to find new purpose, but he found it in this place. He found it in his assistant manager, Krem, and all the rest of the crew members who'd sort of become his make shift family over the years: Dalish, Rocky, Stitches, Grim, and Skinner. Each of them had a little place in his heart, and he could never replace a single one of them. 

Not that he'd ever admit that to them, though. He had to come down hard on the back talk. If they thought he was soft on them, they'd start trying to get away with all kinds of bullshit. That was _not_ going to fly in _his_ establishment. 

Krem was different, though, he was... _actually_ family. Not long after his divorce with Dorian, he found Krem on the street, fighting to survive. He took him in, became a licensed foster parent, and eventually adopted him. The kid was 17 now, completely convinced that he's an adult too. He may have been second in command, but he still had a lot of learning to do. 

The afternoon rush had just ended and Bull was helping Stitches clean up a bit in the kitchen. The store was usually empty in these hours between 3 pm and 5 pm, so it was a perfect break time for the crew. Eventually, he just started closing the kitchen for two hours to ensure that his cooks and servers got the breaks that they needed between shifts. They were the only ones keeping this place up and running, after all. They needed it. 

He had been making small talk with the other man as he scraped grime from the stove, joking around and trying to make the man laugh, like usual. He heard the front doors jingle and he stopped, setting down the scraper to push his shoulder through the door and see who it was. "Hey, our kitchen is closed until-" 

Krem grinned, slinging his backpack off of his shoulder and onto the floor in his usual manner. "Hey, Chief." 

"Kremepuff," Bull immediately felt relieved, not bothering to wipe his messy hands off on his apron as he snatched the kid up in his arms and started messing up his hair. As he released him, Krem grumbled something under his breath. Typical, for a teenager. "How was school? Traffic wasn't too bad, I hope." 

"Why do ya always have to greet me like you thought I up and died or somethin'," he said, shaking his head. "It was alright, I guess. As far as school goes. Driving's fine, no ice on the road yet. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Such an attitude. Iron Bull rolls his eyes and shoves him playfully, picking his bag back up and handing it to him. "Go get your uniform on, kid, before I decide to take that car back to the dump and make you walk." 

That was as good of a motivation as any, he supposed, because the kid went into the bathroom to change without so much as another peep of back talk. Bull decided to take the chance to wash his hands, and start readying the tables for the dinner rush that was bound to come as soon as the clock struck 5. 

Sometimes, he caught himself looking a little too closely across the street at the front entrance of Imperial Gardens. Sometimes, he caught Dorian walking out at the end of the night, twirling his keys around a finger, unaware of Bull watching him pass. It was so hard to tell from the distance, but Dorian looked as though he'd hardly changed at all.

It seemed like he was still as gorgeous as he was the day he up and left Bull for good. It had been ten years, but he was certain that he'd beat himself up over it for the rest of his days. It wasn't as though Dorian didn't have cause. It wasn't as though Bull was a simple victim. He sighed and turned back to the table he was cleaning, trying to push the dreaded thoughts to the back of his mind.

Today, however, he saw movement in the corner of his eye, just outside the front glass windows. Dorian stood in front of the entrance in his usual fancy white shirt and black pants, talking to a scrawny boy with a wild, confused look on his face as though he didn't understand a word Dorian was saying. Bull smiled a little, but quickly focused on the task at hand before some one in his kitchen noticed him staring. He didn't want them to catch him checking out the enemy, that would be horrible for morale. 

When 4:30 rolled around, everything finally seemed to start coming into place. Tablemats were set, silverwear was rolled, kitchen was spotless and friers were bubbling- ready for the inevitable dinner rush that was to come; that _always_ came. Krem was doing the last little bits of work, like preparing the cash registers and locking up the safe. Bull was in his usual place, waiting to seat customers as they came in. He and Krem were the hosts, and Bull's face was a favorite for all of the regular customers. Some came just to catch up with him and hear his stories. There wasn't a person in this town that Bull didn't know, and he wore it with pride. 

He had been scanning the newspaper in an attempt to kill time, scribbling on a crossword when a frantic knocking came on the front glass doors. He looked up, expecting some customer hoping to get some special treatment or seating priority for showing up half an hour early. Instead, it was the same wild-eyed boy that was in front of Imperial Gardens a little over an hour before.

He looked panicked, and covered in sweat despite the cold. Bull exchanged worried glances with Krem, but didn't hesitate to open the door. "Can I help you?" he asked gently. "Bud, we're closed until-" 

"Please help," the boy pleaded, holding out a shaky palm full of five dollar bills and quarters. "I... he... he sent me to the super market to get potatoes because the food truck didn't come. I-" he swallowed, too scared to even speak. "I got lost. I couldn't find it and I'm so cold. I'll give you this money. If we don't get potatoes..."

Bull shakes his head and gently takes the kid's arm, pulling him inside. "Here, keep your money," he said, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "What's your name?" 

"C-Cole," he answered. "I'm Cole." 

"Alright, Cole, I'm Iron Bull. I have plenty of potatoes to spare. How much can you carry?" 

"Enough. We need potatoes." 

"Got it," Bull turned, gesturing for him to wait there as he went into the back. He came back with a decent sized crate, not too much for some one like Cole to carry, but enough to last for one night at the very least. Cole hesitantly took it from the qunari, grunting at the weight, but with help he was able to get in a more comfortable carrying position. "Tell Dorian it's a gift, and not to mention it." 

Cole nods. "Good bye, The Iron Bull," he said before ducking back out the door, leaving just as quickly as he came. 

"What was that all about?" Krem asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Just the nice thing to do," he shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Get back to work, Krem." 

"Yes, Chief." 

 

* * *

 

"Cole you... _what?"_ Dorian stared at him slack jawed, not sure what to make of what he was hearing. 

"We needed potatoes. He helped," Cole said, as if he had no idea what he'd done wrong. 

"I gave you money to go to the _supermarket_ , Cole. What happened to that?" 

"I got lost." 

"Cole, I gave you directions. Just go up the street a few blocks and turn left, there's a huge sign-" 

"It was cold." 

Dorian huffed in defeat, pinching the bridge of his nose. How could this go any _more_ wrong? Just over some Maker damned...

"He said it was a gift," Cole continued. "Then he smiled at me like he knew something that I didn't. It was a sad smile. Why would he be sad, Dorian?" 

"Just, put them in dry storage, alright? Have Blackwall help you," he said, dismissing him with a wave of a hand. "And... thank you. For what it's worth." 

"Your welcome," Cole said as he departed, lugging the crate along with him. 

A gift, huh? Bull wouldn't go as low as to give him bad potatoes just because somebody like Cole happened to wander up on his front sidewalk. So... why, then? Why wouldn't he just turn Cole away? Cole wasn't exactly a puppy or a girl selling cookies, it wasn't hard to refuse him. Why would Bull give him these supplies when he'd benefit more from Dorian having to send his workers home and close early for the night? It didn't make any sense. 

"Want me to check 'em out?" Sera asked, poking her head into the office and grinning from ear to ear. "Make sure there's no funny stuff?" 

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," he waved her off, hardly even hearing what she said. 

Why was he so stressed out anyways? They were just potatoes. That's it. A simple crate of potatoes and he feels like he's about to have a heart attack. He needed them, sure, but now he felt like he needed a stiff drink too.

Even worse, his smartphone buzzed from where it sat charging on the otherside of his desk. Sera had gone through it and changed all his contact names, but he'd gotten to know who was who after a while. It was easier to do that than try to change it all back. 

_**MR. ASSKISS:** Attorney says I need the check by the end of the week to make the divorce final. _

Dorian groans, rubbing his eyes as though it will somehow erase what he's reading so that he won't have to deal with it anymore. 

_**DORIAN:** K _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, but I thought it fit better on it's own than trying to cram it in with chapter 3. Plus, we got to meet Bull, and that alone is worth it, right???
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!!! I really really appreciate the feedback ;7;


	3. Worse Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is having a rough couple of days, and he's finally decided that drinking himself into a stupor is the only way to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the smut begins B) thanks to everyone who read so far, if you like this please leave a comment! it means sooo much to me, really. this chapter is a little long, but very worth it. enjoy!

_**"** The only difference between a rut and a grave are the dimensions. **"**_

— Ellen Glasgow

 

"Sparkler, if you don't stop frowning like that, your face'll get stuck." 

"Now is hardly the time for your idioms, Varric," Dorian said irritably. "I asked you to come here because I need your help, not your humor." 

Varric chuckled, reclining slightly in his seat. Dorian had called him and invited him over to his apartment after he'd closed the restaurant down for the night. Felix and his attorney had confirmed that they wanted the check worth half of the investment cost for Imperial Gardens by Sunday afternoon, or else Dorian would lose custody of the entire place, his boat, and poor little Lucius: who was presently sitting at his feet, purring contently. Varric had connections everywhere. On the outside, he was just an author, but in reality, he had an investment in every major company in the city. 

He sat at the other side of the table, twirling a pen between his fingers. He was one of Dorian's oldest friends, having known him even during the time that he was married to Bull. Varric was a lawful neutral by nature, so of course, he had maintained friendships with both Dorian and Bull even after all these years of their hatred and rivalry. Thankfully, though, he was sensitive enough to know that the two men would obviously rather not talk about one another, ever.

"Listen, it's not going to be easy to convince my contacts to loan out that kind of money for just anyone," Varric said, looking a little more serious now. "I'll push as hard as I can for you, Sparkler, because I think that you're a good man. I also think you deserve better than this kind of bullshit." 

Dorian snorts. "It's hard to believe that he was a different person once. He was so intelligent, so attentive, and sweet," he paused, sadness clumping up in his throat at the memories. "I suppose we can't all live in our own romantic tales, Varric. It seems happy endings don't actually exist." 

"If I manage to help you keep Imperial Gardens out of that asshole's hands, I'll still consider this a happy ending," the dwarf said with a smirk. "Pay for half, and I'll find you a contact to loan you the other half by Friday, alright, Dorian? You won't get kicked onto the streets while I'm looking out for you." 

He couldn't help but smile a little at that, looking up from his papers to finally meet eyes with the other man. "I ask you for too many favors, friend," Dorian said. "but thank you, truly. I... can't stand being indebted. You know this." 

"Imagine that you're just... expanding. That way it seems more progressive." 

"I will make it up to you, Varric," he insisted. "I owe you that much." 

"Make it up to me with some rum and a game of Diamondback, alright?" Varric laughed. "Don't show up at my house with a bouquet of flowers."

"I would never." 

Varric smirked, pushing the divorce paperwork into a pile on the other side of the table as he pulled a deck of cards from the inside of his coat. Of course, the dwarf always kept them handy. Dorian swore that he was only a few inches short of a gambling addiction. "Wanna play a few hands?" 

"Have I ever refused?" 

They quickly settled into the game, Dorian taking the chance to relax a little bit, kicking his feet out and rolling up his sleeves. It was nice to have something on his mind other than this stupid divorce.

"How was work today, anyways?" Varric asked, trying to make lighter conversation. 

"The food truck never showed up," Dorian grumbled, drawing a card from the deck. "I gave Cole some money to buy potatoes from the supermarket and somehow he winds up at The Chargers instead."

"Hah! No kidding? That kid can't find his way around this town to save his life."

"He can't find his way down the street," Dorian huffed. "I'm surprised he even makes the walk home without getting lost." 

"What happened then?" Varric prodded, looking particularly interested now. 

"I... suppose he told Bull of his predicament, because he came back with a crate of potatoes in his arms," he said. "Apparently, Bull left him with the message that it was a gift." 

"A gift, huh? Don't suppose it's supposed to be an olive branch." 

The Tevinter man chuckled at the notion. "The Iron Bull is not an 'olive branch' sort of a man. Neither am I." 

"You're right on that one," Varric snorted. "A set of kings, looks like I win." 

"It seems so... another round, next Wednesday?"

"I'm never late, Sparkler." 

 

* * *

 

The following day of work had been no better than the previous. The food truck was absent, again, and Dorian had a long, "friendly" chat with the shipment company over the phone once the lunch rush had finally passed over. He paid good money for those people to bring in produce and supplies, where in the Maker's name were they? The company claimed to be absent and they put all blame on the driver, ensuring that he would be eliminated at the end of this shipment. At that, Dorian hung up. If he talked any longer, he would have started spewing death threats. 

He decided to spend the rest of the shift in the dining area, far away from paper work, mingling with customers and helping the serving girls where he could. He was a respected member of the community with a restaurant like this under his belt, but he had yet to go public about his divorce. He stopped wearing the wedding ring, and desperately hoped none of the customers would notice. 

He chatted with a few of his old friends and regulars of the establishment, like Cullen from the local police force: he always ordered two mugs of black coffee, one with caffiene and one without, and a 12 oz. chopped sirloin cooked medium rare with mashed potatoes and brown gravy (extra gravy, too, if possible).

Then there was Josephine, the pretty politicians assistant who deserved a better job than what she got. Always an unsweetened iced tea with two lemons and an order of grilled shrimp with ceaser salad for a side. They'd been investors in this place when he first opened up, and loyal customers ever since.

Once he'd set a plate out before the lovely lady, resigning himself to return to the kitchen when she stopped him, tugging at his sleeve. "Dorian, might I have a word?" 

"I-... Of course, Lady Josephine," he forced a smile, shyly taking the seat across from her and neatly folding his hands on the table. "What's your concern?"

She gestured to the man's right hand, a knowing look on her face. "Mr. Pavus, pray tell; what happened here?"

He looked at his empty ring finger for a long moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. "A great many things, I'm afraid. It's for the best." 

She sighed, pulling a roasted shrimp from the stick and gracefully popping it into her mouth. "I hope so," she finally replied. "I'm sorry, Dorian. I know you were happy with him." 

"'Were' being the key word of choice, here," he murmured. "I'll be fine, I think. It's... simply a lot of paperwork." 

"Yes, so I hear," she hummed. "I am returning to law school come winter, if you need help, do not hesitate to reach out." 

"Thank you," Dorian smiled, slowly rising from his seat. "Now, if it is alright, I must check on my cooks." 

"Another time, then," she said, contently turning back to her food. 

Dorian welcomed the smells of the kitchen, olive oil and sizzling meat was just what he needed to soothe his nerves down again. The aroma wasn't enough, however, when Blackwall came rushing up to him from the back, face white with fear. "Boss Pavus, I don't think Cole cleaned out the-" 

They were interrupted by the sound of fire alarms errupting through the whole kitchen, and Dorian could have fainted right there. Sera appeared from around the corner, looking equally concerned. "I'll go... get the customers out of here," she said, hurriedly moving out of the kitchen. Dorian could see the flames erupting in the corner of his eye, too stiff with shock, anger, and grief to move.

Cole showed up in no time as well, followed by  the head chef, a Nevarran woman named Cassandra, and the remaining servers; Leliana and two others. "Call the fire department," Dorian finally said, his voice hardly cracking above a whisper. Cassandra nodded, taking it upon herself to get everyone else outside (as was standard protocol) and holding a phone up to her ear.

Dorian was alone in the chaos, huffing as he moved to get the fire extinguisher from the wall. Sure enough, the fryer was engulfed in flames. He set the extinguisher off to the side, pulling the collar of his shirt up around his nose as he moved cautiously around the fire, trying to see if there was any way he could safely unplug it and turn off the heat.

The fire surged, engulfing his reaching hand and searing his sleeve. He cried out in pain, cussing so loudly that the Maker was bound to hear it. He kicked over the fire extinguisher as he passed, ignoring it as he clutched his burning hand to his chest and scrambled outside with the others. 

The customers who were escorted out had started to make their way back to their cars in an obvious state of panic. It would be a miracle if anyone showed up after this. Josephine gave him a sympathetic look when she caught his gaze from the parking lot, shaking her head as she ducked into her car. Yep. He was completely ruined. 

The fire department showed up none too soon, and Dorian went to escort them inside, but a paramedic stopped him when they got a glimpse at the charred sleeve of his shirt, and his apple red hand, blisters forming along the wrist and palm. "Sir, you need to see a doctor. These are second degree burns," they said. 

"I know what they are," he pulled away, just out of the paramedics reach with a guarded stance. "I'm not going anywhere. I need to be here for the clean up when they put out the fire, this is _my_ restaurant." 

"Sir, you'll get an infection-" 

"I'm _fine_ ," he snapped. "and I've taken worse burns than this without seeing a doctor. I can handle my own." 

It wasn't long before the firemen came out again, but for the crew waiting outside it seemed to take hours, rather than minutes. Sera stood close beside Dorian, and Cole had taken shelter behind Blackwall as though he feared that the fire would sprout legs and come outside to chase him. Cassandra was strangely calm, as always, stoic in the face of utter defeat. 

"We put out the fire, sir," said the man in the front, taking off his helmet. "There was a grease build up in the fryer, one of your employees neglected it's cleaning." 

Dorian felt a pang in his stomach as he turned to look at Cole, shuddering from behind Blackwall like a startled puppy. Cole was a good hearted kid, how could he have created this kind of... disaster? Just one mistake, one lousy mistake, and here they are. "It's not just your fault, Cole," Dorian said softly, dismissing the fireman with a nod. "It's all our fault. We should have made sure that grease trap got cleaned, everyone knows how easily distracted you get. It was all of our responsibilities to prevent that sort of fire from happening and this is the fruit of our neglegence." 

The crew fell silent, unable to meet their boss's eyes as he scolded them, guilt clear on their features. As the fire truck went back down the road, all of Dorian's rage, all of his grief, his sleepless nights, and his constant stress- it brought him down to nothing. He stood there, staring in silent disappointment, silent fury at his employees, and he felt like everything he'd fought for his entire life was worth nothing. This place he put all his pride into, nothing. Dorian? Nothing. 

"Go home," he said, tone expressionless and cold. "and don't come back tomorrow." 

"When do we come back then, boss?" Blackwall asked, brow furrowing with concern. 

"When I call you." 

Slowly, as each of his crew members left, he made his way back into that dreaded kitchen. The floor and walls around the fryer were charred, and the fryer itself was completely ruined. He looked at the burnt grease on the floor, and the blackened metal, and he felt his knees go weak beneath him. He collapsed, and in his moment of solitude, he allowed himself to cry. 

When he got home, he bandaged himself up and put some medicine on the wound. It definitely hurt a lot more now than it had the time of, and he had a hard time thinking about anything else. As he sat down on the couch, defeated in every way possible, he tried to think of what his twenty-year-old self would do now in this situation. His twenty-year-old self was carefree, anxiety free, and did whatever the hell he wanted. He didn't lose sleep for anything other than sex, and lack of alcohol was his only source of stress. 

That's it! Dorian would just take what little money he had left that wasn't committed to Felix's stupid check and drink himself into a stupor. It wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had, but Maker be damned, it was _something_. He was going through the closest thing that he could imagine to be a midlife crisis and he wasn't going to successfully make it through sober. But not for lack of trying, that's for damn sure. 

He stood up unsteadily and went to shower, making himself look as clean and sharp as he could despite the bandage around his left hand and wrist. He went with one of his favorite outfits that he used to wear when he and Felix went out on dinner dates: a nice cotton v-neck shirt with a cream colored cardigan, bold red skinny jeans and ankle boots to match. With a scarf for an extra touch, he was satisfied that he looked handsome enough to present himself in public; even if he was going to get absolutely wasted. 

"I'll be home... late," Dorian said as he approached the door, looking back at Lucius. "Do take good care of the apartment for me, my boy." 

Lucius meowed in response, padding off into the kitchen with his tail swaying gracefully after him. With that Dorian took his leave, not feeling this excited to get out of the house in quite a long time. 

 

* * *

 

The Herald's Rest was a usual drinking spot for the Iron Bull, especially on days like these where Krem was out with some friends from school and he needed something to do other than sit at home and lay on the couch. Sometimes he would just drink enough to safely drive home and then take a nap, or he'd find somebody he wanted to bring home _with_ him. Now _that_ was his kind of night. 

Sometimes he would come out here and have a drinking night with the Chargers where they'd play Wicked Grace or a similar game, but tonight Bull was enjoying the lonesome. He was telling a story to the bartender over a mug of fireball Qunari brandy, the kind of stuff that could knock a man off of his feet. He wouldn't have it any other way, either. That's how you knew it was the real shit, not some watered down knock off. "And then Rocky comes into the kitchen," he laughs. "in nothing but his underwear, and he says-" 

He paused when he heard the jingle of the bar door opening, glancing over to see who it was and if it was some one he could potentially charm the pants off of or not. Then, he realized... it was _Dorian_. Or, was it? Could it really be? He looked more closely, taking notice of the sparkling studs in his ears, the precisely combed hair and mustache, the clothes that he was wearing and _damn_ , that _ass_... It had to be him. There's no one else it could be but... what was he doing here? Another bartender crossed to go and greet him, pouring him a glass of red wine. The bartender that Bull was talking to, Platt, noticed the staring and smirked. 

"You like what you're seein'?" he asked, propping an elbow on the counter and nodding toward Dorian. 

Bull chuckled, looking away and focusing on the dark drink inside of his glass instead. "Yeah, but I probably shouldn't." 

"Why not? I've never seen the mighty Iron Bull daunted by _anyone_ before." 

"I'm not daunted," Bull argued, suddenly defensive. "He's just... I just know him from somewhere, that's all." 

"All the more reason to go talk to him," Platt said with a grin. "Come on! What do you have to lose?" 

Now left with no choice, Bull sighs, stretching in order to pop the tension in his shoulders before standing up, bringing his drink with him. He takes a deep breathe, putting on his confidence, and he marches over, taking the empty seat right beside Dorian and gesturing to the woman pouring Dorian's wine. "Put that on my tab," he said. She looked warily between them, but nods, hurrying away to make changes to the bill. Dorian tenses, looking warily at him. 

"What are you playing at?" Dorian asked suspiciously, leaning away from Bull a little bit. Bull took the moment to appreciate the other man: the curve of his nose, those sharp lips, and was that... a touch of silver at the temples? For the love of... he never thought he'd be so turned on by a little grey hair but the way it complimented Dorian's facial features, his skin tone _. Fuck_ , it was _hot_. 

"Not playing at anything," Bull purred, intentionally leaning closer to the other man now. What was that he was smelling? Was that... cologne? Tevinter cologne? For fuck's sake... "Can't a man sit with his nemesis and buy him a drink every once and a while? It doesn't _always_ have to be a hate fest." 

Dorian snorted, though he looked somewhat distracted; like something else was on his mind. "Perhaps," he muttered, running a finger over the rim of his glass and taking a sip. Bull then noticed a bandage wrapped around the man's left hand, and he arched a brow. 

"What's that?" 

He looks at his bandage, as if deciding whether or not he was comfortable telling Bull the truth. He then gave a defeated sigh, letting his shoulders slump. "Fryer caught on fire," he said. "So... you win, I suppose. This grand game of ours has finally come to an end. A shame, really." 

"Oh, come on now," Bull gave him a playful nudge with an elbow. "What about that boy toy of yours, Alexius? His family's loaded, he could buy you a new fryer and a spare while he's at it." 

Dorian hesitated. "We're... getting a divorce," he answered finally. "All the money I have and even the money that I _don't have_ has gone towards that." 

"Robbing you blind, eh?" Bull nodded, taking a swig of his drink and grunting in pleasure at the burning sensation the lit up his throat and upper chest. "That's no fun. Who's windows will I spray with wood polish now?" 

"Very charming," Dorian rolled his eyes. "You had the chance to finish me off sooner. I almost wish you had." 

"Oh, what? The potatoes?" Bull shrugged. "Nah. It wouldn't have been funny or clever. Just sort of sad. There's no sport in that." He slowly moved closer to the other man, and if he noticed, he didn't do anything about it, only continued staring off into space. Bull didn't mind, Dorian had a very nice profile, after all. "Hey, is that a bit of silver I see in your hair?" he teased, gesturing with a meaty finger. 

Dorian blushed, reaching to absently cover the grey spot with a hand as he idly fiddled with his glass in the other. "No, absolutely not. You're mistaken." 

"Whatever, big guy," he chuckled. "It... looks kinda hot, actually. In a weird way." 

"You're a savage," the other man bit out. 

"Yeah? If I was, I'd have grabbed your ass and asked you if you were lost instead of buying your drink." 

"If I was lost?" It was Dorian's turn to raise an eyebrow now. 

"Yeah, so I could give you directions back to my place," he winked with his one good eye. 

Dorian contemplated this for a moment, before finally turning and looking Bull in the eyes. He was smirking somewhat luridly at him, and Bull felt like he'd just taken an arrow through the heart. If he didn't stop this now, Bull would take him right here on this table. "Hm... so I suppose that makes you a perfect gentleman?" he asked. Was he actually _flirting_ now? How much did he drink while Bull was too busy staring at his ass to notice?

"Mhm," he leaned dangerously close to the other man now, close enough that he could feel his hot, wine-scented breathe. "If that's what you want me to be, big guy," he whispered. 

Dorian shuddered at that, and he could sense it. Fuck, he missed this. Composing himself again, Dorian straightened, but didn' t break eye contact with the other man. "You _brute,_ " he huffed, taking Bulls jaw in one of his hands and running his thumb down his chin. His grasp was not at all gentle, however, it was harsh, rough, and demanding. "Just this once, but if you try anything out of line Bull, Maker so help me I'll-" 

"Hmm, that's why there are safe words," Bull said, doing his best to contain himself. He was so excited, his heart was pounding in his chest like a caged elephant, or... was that his _arousal?_   "Do you remember?" 

Dorian nodded, narrowing his eyes with the same distrust he had for the man whenever he'd first sat next to him. "I do." 

"Well, what is it?" 

"Tranquility." 

"Oh, look at you," Bull chuckled, grin spreading. "Come on, if you make me wait any longer, it won't be pretty." He stood up, gesturing toward the door. Dorian hesitated, shifting uneasily in his seat. 

"This is just a one time thing, Bull," he warned, his tone lowering. "It doesn't mean a thing." 

"Got it, big guy. Now, hurry up, would you?" 

"You're an ass." 

"The best there is." 

 

* * *

 

 

They took Bull's motorcycle back to his place, which, conveniently, wasn't far from the bar at all. Bull had Dorian backed up against the wall within the first few seconds of entering the door, kissing him with violent lust and passion. Dorian found that he was intoxicated by it, by the smell of Bull, his harsh touch with rough calloused fingers. When they parted so that Bull could guide him to the bedroom, Dorian took a second to admire the house that he was in. It was actually... sort of nice. But Bull clearly didn't live here alone. On the other side of the living room, he saw a massive glass tank bordering one of the walls. Inside, a regal green, blue, and yellow lizard with zebra striping on the end it's tail. 

"Bull, what's that?" he gestured to the animal vaguely. 

"Spike, he's my dragon," Bull said. "Chinese Water Dragon. Now, don't ask questions, it makes all this a lot less hot." 

"But... who else lives here with you?" 

"My son,  _stop_ asking questions," Bull growled, snatching the other man and pulling him into the bedroom- shutting the door behind him and locking it. Despite how incredibly arousing all of this was, Dorian couldn't help but panic a little bit at the words. _'His_ son _?!'_ Bull backed him against the wall again, hand snatching his wrists and pinning them above his head, wedging a knee between his legs; thus rendering Dorian completely thoughtless beneath him.

"Damn it, I've wanted to do this for so long," he breathed as he leaned, biting down on Dorian's neck and earning a throaty groan from the other man. He was shocked to notice that Dorian was already completely hard, straining in his jeans. Not that he wasn't proud of himself for it, but he didn't remember Dorian to be so... eager. "Fuck, Dorian, how long has it been?" He ground his knee up a little bit, applying a gentle pressure to the area and making the Tevinter man whimper again. 

"I-..." he swallowed, hesitating. "e-eight months, maybe more. I don't know. Wait, I thought we weren't asking questions?" he snapped the last part with a sudden energy, making Bull chuckle a little. 

" _You're_ not asking questions," he murmured, his tone becoming gravelly and carnal. "You're in _my_ house, big guy. Remember?" 

"You're _insufferable,_ " he hissed, biting back another groan as Bull moved his knee again.

Bull laughed again, the rumble sending vibrations through Dorian's body. He felt so consumed, like Iron Bull had robbed him of his entire atmosphere and poisoned the air with his addicting scent as he moved up to Dorian's ears, playfully nipping at the lobes. "Do you remember the first time we ever did this?" he whispered, enjoying the way Dorian squirmed at the memory. "Back in Tevinter... we found a bedroom in that place in Minrathous with the cracked bell on the roof, sneaking past all the dancers."

He let his fingers slip up Dorian's shirt as he let his tongue travel down the other man's jawline, and back down to the dark spot on his neck that he'd created earlier. "I'm going to show you what it's like to be _conquered,_ the way a little spitfire like you should be," he grumbled. "So much energy, so much hatred. And here you are, _quivering_ for me." 

"Shut up and get on with it," Dorian bit back, grinding his hips forward. Bull gave an animal like snarl at that, grabbing the man's hip with a free hand and pinning him back against the wall so that he couldn't move. 

"If you don't watch that mouth, I'll make you regret it," he warned, gaze darkening. Then, he took the chance to scoop Dorian up in his arms and carry him over to the bed, tossing him onto it carelessly, earning a yelp from Dorian. Bull was on top of him in an instant, tearing his clothes off of him and tossing them onto the ground without a single care as to where they landed. Fuck, he was so beautiful. This stress had aged Dorian, for sure, but he seemed to be a man that aged like wine. And oh Koslun, he kept those nipple piercings in too. He couldn't help himself, he immediately slipped a finger through one of them, enjoying the way it made Dorian writhe. 

The pleasure tore through Dorian like lightning, he threw his head back against the pillows, arching his back into the other man's touch and relishing the way he held his hips down to the bed. Then, Bull took his hands away to shuffle through the side table beside the bed, pulling out several different things that Dorian couldn't quite make out in the dim light of the room. Leather ties came around his wrists, tying them up to the head board. Of course, Bull was careful with the bandaged wrist. It made Dorian's heart rate escalate, Maker... it had been so long since he'd done anything like this. Once he was successfully bound, Bull slipped a small, golden ring around Dorian's aching member, allowing it to come to sit at the base. Dorian whimpered irritably, pulling against his restraints. 

"You... you big, evil-" he gasped when a hand came into contact with his thigh, sending a tingling pain through his entire lower body. 

"You wanna keep yapping?" Bull asked, quirking a brow. 

Maker, he did. But, he decidedly kept his mouth shut, earning a small smile from the man above him. Bull moved forward, hovering above him on his knees, his groin lined up with Dorian's face. Holy hell, he could smell Bull even more strongly here. It numbed all of his senses, and he was hardly aware of what was happening as Bull yanked his pants and boxers down, holding himself against Dorian's lips. "Suck," he demanded. "put that pretty mouth of yours to good use." 

Dorian obeyed, taking him into his mouth. Fuck, he'd forgotten how large Bull was, and how well endowed- he strained against the ties to take more of him down, pressing his tongue flat along the bottom before coming back up to the tip and dipping in. Bull groaned, grabbing Dorian's face and thrusting forward harshly, not stopping when Dorian began to choke and gag. It was painful, but Dorian loved it. He pursed his lips and allowed his cheeks to hollow as he sucked, wanting to look as beautiful as he possibly could so that Bull would realize just what he'd lost. He wanted Bull to dream amount this moment for weeks to come. 

Then, Bull pulled out, cackling to himself as he returned to his previous position, face at level with Dorian's. "You devil," he purred, dipping in to plant a kiss on Dorian's lips, his tongue seeking entrance past Dorian's teeth and he allowed it, giving the qunari full access to his mouth. He pulled away as soon as he'd started, however, trailing kisses down Dorian's body, lingering momentarily on his pierced nipples and running his tongue over the tips. Dorian gasped, his loins aching. But, it was sort of a sweet ache. He understood now why Bull chose to use it, after being unpracticed for all this time, he wasn't bound to last long under Bull's caress. 

Bull grazed his teeth along the skin of Dorian's dick, a stray hand running a thumb along the base and teasing his balls. Then, he moved his attention lower, hands spreading Dorian's legs further apart as the qunari's thick tongue wound around the bud of Dorian's ass. He whimpered, pleaded, and Bull surprisingly listened. He dove in, tongue fucking Dorian with unsurprising expertise. Andraste's holy wisdom, he could have came right then if he could cum at all. He tried to move his hips forward to beg for more contact but Bull held him securely in place as his tongue ravished the inside of him. 

When he pulled away Dorian was flush from the stomach up, red as the cheap wine he'd been drinking in the Herald's Rest. That, in itself, was a silent plea. Bull couldn't continue to resist him, he took off his shirt, leaning down to kiss Dorian again, much more deeply this time. Dorian was gasping for breathe when they parted and Bull had already lined himself up. He wasn't asking for permission, he was going to take Dorian whether Dorian liked it or not and fuck if that didn't turn him on even _more_. Dorian tried to beg, to say something that would spur the qunari on, but it only came out as a wordless moan. 

Bull laughed again, and thrust right in. He didn't slow down, he pushed himself all the way inside earning a pained cry from Dorian. Fuck, Bull was so huge, and it made him feel so-... full. Felix had never made him feel nearly this good, but he immediately pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he bit through the pain and thrust up, _more_. 

The qunari above him didn't hesitate, grabbing the other man's legs and pulling them up on to his shoulders before beginning to pound into him mercilessly and without relent. It seemed to rock the entire room, if not the entire house. Dorian bit his tongue, trying to conceal his moans until Bull made a point of striking that special place deep inside of him head on. Dorian shouted, desperately hoping that Bull's 'son' was not home to hear that. He made sure to hit that spot now with every thrust, causing Dorian to become completely undone- screaming to the ceiling and crying out Bull's name as he strained against the ties around his wrists. 

When Bull finally came, Dorian swore it filled him to his very brim. He was surprised to see Bull actually removing the cock ring, and even at that slight touch, Dorian cried out again, exploding his seed all over the Bull's hands. The qunari laughed, sitting back and relishing in the fluid, holding it to Dorian's face. "Clean that up," he ordered, and Dorian did so obediently. The chuckle that this earned sent a warmth through Dorian, and he felt nothing but absolute bliss. Even when Bull pulled out, it was so good that he would have cum again if he were still hard. Bull carefully untied him, and Dorian sighed at the relief he felt at being able to flex his arms. 

Bull opened his mouth to say something, but Dorian reached forward- clasping a hand over his lips. "Don't. Say. A. Word." he hissed, before turning to clamber off of the bed, searching around for his clothes- putting them on as he salvaged them. 

"Leaving so soon?" Bull cooed, leaning back against the head board. His sweat glistened in the light from the hallway, muscular body out on complete display. 

"I told you not to talk," Dorian huffed as he wiggled into his pants, snatching his cardigan and his shoes. 

"Don't I at least get your number or something?" Bull teased, blatantly refusing Dorian's demand. 

"I'm leaving," the other declared once his shoes were on, opening the bedroom door. Bull climbed out of the bed, not bothering to cover himself up as he followed Dorian out. 

"Don't you want a ride, big guy?"

"No, the bar is just down the street, I can walk," he huffed, opening the door but hesitating on the front steps of the porch. "This never happened, got it?" he warned, turning to glare back at Bull who lounged against the door frame, not giving a single shit that he was displaying all of himself out to the whole neighborhood. 

"Sure," he hummed. "Give Felix my good wishes." 

"Fuck you," Dorian marched down the street, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Bull grinned as he watched him go, arms crossed over his chest. 

"You already did." 

But by that time, Dorian was gone. Bull made a satisfied noise as he turned back into his house, closing the door behind him. He went to his room to dress himself before settling down at his computer desk, allowing Spike to come out of his cage and sit across his shoulders, of course. Before Krem got home, Bull had some business that he needed to take care of. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is very much in denial, if you can't tell. I'll try to update this as fast as possible but I'm writing another Modern AU fic at the same time as this one so it may be a bit. Please subscribe so you can keep track of updates! And if you enjoyed, leave me a comment telling me what you think or maybe what you'd like to see in the future? I'm okay with some suggestions because I have a very thin outline of this haha, so please leave some feedback!!! Thank you!!


	4. Donations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is surprised at what he finds when he arrives at work the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long! trying to juggle fics, art, my job, my friends and my family all at the same time... but here we are! this chapter is long so i hope that makes the wait worth while. enjoy!!!

_**"** I said, 'We have dreamed, dear friend. Another time, we might awaken. Let it be a dream forgotten at morning.' That seemed a better way of saying it than, 'Never remind me of this, for fear I should stick a knife in you. **"**_

— Mary Renault 

 

What did Dorian _do?_ As he looked at his hickey in the mirror, he was reminded of the soreness in his thighs and he groaned loudly. He should have been ashamed of himself! Bull was his ex-husband, his enemy, and he had let him sway Dorian back into his bed. Even Lucius seemed to know what kind of sick mistake he had made, because he kept glaring at him from the other side of the bathroom. 

"Lucius, don't stare at me that way," he huffed, wrapping his scarf back around his neck as he turned away from the mirror. He reflected on why he'd left Bull in the first place, perhaps that would put out the yearning that he felt in his gut everytime he thought of his face. 

He remembered when he'd come home from the lawyer's office that day, and threw the papers on the counter while Bull sat on the couch looking solemnly at the floor like he knew exactly what was coming. "I want a divorce," he'd said, trying to sound angry and strong, but the hurt was still there in his voice. 

"I get it," Bull had said, not looking up. "Can't say I blame you." 

"Don't try to sway me with guilt," Dorian snapped, grabbing the paperwork and shoving it into Bull's arms. "Go through that, and sign everything that you need to sign. I've done my half." 

He remembered how broken-hearted Bull was, but he submitted. He never fought the divorce or fought Dorian for being angry with him, for hating him. He accepted the guilt for his actions, and reaped the consquences. 

Dorian remembered the rage and betrayal that he felt when Bull confessed and told Dorian who he really was. Told Dorian that he'd been lying to him all of these years and that the man he'd fallen in love with was not a man who even existed at all. Because in truth, Bull was not just some other Tal-Vashoth qunari doing body guard work in Minrathous to try and raise money for his own little café. 

He was a member of the Ben-Hassrath, the Qunari CIA, spies, enemies of his homeland. Dorian wouldn't have cared if Bull had been honest, but he wasn't. He lied. He'd taken advantage of Dorian and refused to trust him enough to tell him the truth. Bull might have left the Qunari right after their divorce was final, Bull might have used that money to join him in the restaurant business despite becoming his rival, but that doesn't change Bull's dishonesty. 

He inhaled slowly through his nose, and exhaled, trying to settle his nerves. Satisfied, he grabbed his car keys and left, but not without saying goodbye to Lucius, of course. 

Dorian was bombarded by his crew members almost as soon as he walked in the door. He'd called them earlier that morning and told them to come in, and he'd also apologized for what he said after the fire. Even Sera was acting like she saw a ghost, snatching Dorian by the arm and dragging him into the kitchen. "Come in here, ya gotta see this shit!" 

He was preparing himself to see the disarray of the kitchen again, the mess left in the fire's wake, but instead... it was gone. The kitchen was as clean, prim, and proper as it had been before the disaster even occurred. Even better, the old fryer was gone. In it's place, a new fryer, so clean that it looked fresh out of the factory. His heart hammered in his chest. What... who- Who would do this for him?

"Found a friggin note on there too, would ya believe it?" Sera snorts, holding out a piece of paper. "Arsebuiscut would never do something like this." 

Dorian took the paper, looking down at it, puzzled. He opened it slowly, almost afraid of what he might read. 

"You're welcome," it said, and at the very bottom it was addressed with the innitials IB, as if this were a note passed between two students in middle school. He looked from the note to the fryer and back again, not even sure what to think. 

"Go and see if the food truck is here," he said, waving a hand to dismiss the crew. When he was alone again, he found himself rereading those two words as if they would some how decode this mystery for him. Why, Bull? Why do all of this for _him?_  Then, on the back, he noticed that there was a phone number scrawled in very tiny print. 

"The truck has arrived," Cassandra said, poking her head into the kitchen. "I've sent Blackwall and the others to unload it." 

"Thank you," he sighed, forcing a small smile as he tucked the note into his pocket. "Would you... watch over things until we open for the morning? I need to... I have something that requires my attention." 

"Of course," she nodded, though she looked a bit suspicious. "Is this about the new fryer?"

"Just make sure everything is put away where it needs to go," he said, dodging the question as he ducked out of the kitchen. "I'll throw a bonus on your paycheck." 

As he made it outside, he was instantly greeted by the cool autumn air. Well, winter air, now. Today was the first day of December, and that meant nothing but planning and paper work for the next few weeks in preperation for Christmas. 

He looked begrudgingly over at The Chargers, just across the street, deciding whether or not he was brave enough to go over there and knock. Surely his employees would take note of it, they all knew who Dorian was. However... he couldn't just take advantage of Bull's kindness. Bull was his enemy, why would he do something so kind? The potatoes were one thing but.... a brand new two thousand dollar deep fat fryer? Did Bull even have that much money to throw away? 

He took another deep breathe, looking at the note in his pocket again and sighed. He supposed it was now or never. He crossed the street and stopped at the front door of The Chargers, they weren't open yet either, but he could see workers bustling around inside. He gave the door a tentative knock, cringing at the sound. Was he making a mistake? Well... _another_ mistake?

A teenage boy aswered the door, propping it open with his shoulder as he looked Dorian over with suspicion. He was chewing some cinnamon flavored gum, he could smell it on the kid's breathe. "What do ya want?" he asked, clearly not amused by Dorian's presence.

"I'm sorry, I believe you know who I am but..." he paused, looking the boy over again. "I cannot say the same for you." 

"Don't matter any," the kid scowled. "What do ya want?" 

"Krem! Who are you talking to?" A deep voice shouted from the back. 

"The 'vint from across the street," he shouted back, not taking his eyes off of Dorian. 

There was a sound of metal clattering and footsteps as Dorian saw Bull appear from behind the teenager, Krem, and grab him by the shoulder. "Go double check the front cash register for me, will ya, Krem?" he asked, gentle but urgent. 

"Wha- you're going to talk to _him?_ " the boy gaped, looking between the two in offense. "He's-" 

"I know who he is, Krem," Bull's voice darkened. "What did I tell you about the back talk?" 

"Alright, Chief," the boy submitted, casting Dorian one final glare before disappearing back behind the glass doors.

Bull smirked a little as he looked the other man over, eyes settling on the new bandages on his wrist. He hummed in thought and stepped back, holding the door open. "Come on in and sit down, it's pretty chilly out," he gestured to one of the empty tables on the far side: away from the kitchen and the front desk. Dorian followed, tentatively taking the seat across from him. 

This whole thing felt so strange, so... wrong. Why had he come here anyways? What was so important that he felt the need to come and knock on that door?

Bull settled into his own chair, a mug of coffee in one of his hands. The steam danced from the lips of the cup up and into the air, swirling around the qunari's breath. "Good to see ya, big guy," he said, wearing a toothy grin. "But I'm gonna assume you didn't come over here to ask me out for more drinks."

"No, I did not," he replied stiffly. "I... I wanted to thank you, actually." 

Bull's eyes widened in surprise at that, as did his smile. "Thank me, huh? For what?" 

Dorian could feel the 'Krem' kid staring him down from the register, boring holes into his back. He adjusted his scarf, making sure it hid everything that it was supposed to hide, and he cleared his throat. "The fryer," he answered finally. "I don't understand why you did it, but thank you. I... I cannot repay you for that. You've saved me a great deal of debt." 

"Awh, you're welcome, but it wasn't for you," Bull answered with a soft chuckle. "I already told you that this'll be no fun anymore if you run out of business. Varric helped me get it taken care of, so you should be thanking him, really." He paused for a moment, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Varric also told me a little something about a certain 'debt' that you're in. I went ahead and took care of that too." 

Dorian gaped at him. "I-... I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Sure ya do," Bull cooed. "That money you needed to keep the restaurant and get Fred What's-His-Name off of your ass." 

"And that was supposed to keep me from going out of business too, I take it?" Dorian stammered, not sure how to react. 

"Now you get it!" Bull laughed, smirking at him knowingly. "Can I get you a coffee while you're over here, big guy?" 

"No... no. I need to get back," he said, standing up in a clumsy rush. "Thank you, again." Dorian was out of that door as fast as his legs could carry him, and he nearly fainted as he reached the otherside of the street, using the wall to prop him up.

Who was he going to kill first? Bull? Varric? The Attorney? He was shaking from shock, confusion and anger..... he didn't know which one to latch on to. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, hastily dialing the dwarf's number and holding it to his ear as his breathe formed little whisps of white in the air around him.

There was a click as he answered the phone, deep voice saying: "Tethras, Varric Tethras." 

"How _could_ you?" he snapped, not pausing a moment to think over his words. 

Varric laughed. _Of course_  he laughed. "Somebody does the man a favor, and he's ready to start biting off heads." 

 "Varric, when I asked you to help me find someone to loan me money for Felix's check, I assumed you would explicitly mark my _ex-husband_ OFF of the list." 

"Couldn't be helped, Sparkler. We went out, played some cards...  _maybe_ a little drinking was involved. He told me about your... whatever it was. He already ordered the fryer and the bit about the check sort of... slipped. He _insisted_ , who was I to tell him no? No one else had volunteered. You needed the money by _Sunday_ , Sparkler. You can't be picky about where you get it at this point. Not if you wanna keep Imperial Gardens." 

Dorian stewed on this for several long moments, glaring down at the concrete. "Discretion never was Bull's sort of thing," he grumbled finally. "Maker, please, don't tell anyone about it. It was a mistake, and I'd rather pretend it didn't happen." 

"Whatever you say, my friend," the dwarf hummed. "That being said, I think this would be good for you, Sparkler." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe you should think about giving Bull another chance, he's obviously interested," he said. "Besides, at your age, there aren't really a lot of other good guys out there." 

"I'm going to hang up on you." 

"Deny all you want, but Bull is a good man. I mean, yes, he lied to you, but that was like.... ten years ago," he laughed. "It'd be quite the Romeo and Juliet scenario too."

"Goodbye, Varric!" 

 The door to the restaurant swung open, startling him enough to almost knock him from his feet. Sera stood in the door way, looking him over with a wary eye. "You gonna be alright?" she asked. "I'll call Vivvy and have her take ship if you're gonna hurl." 

Did he look that distraught? He supposed he must have looked dreadful to the elven girl: face flushed, hair tossled in his rush, hands shaking with hurt and rage as he clutched his phone to his ear. He never allowed his workers to see him in such a state. Maker, he must have looked completely alien to her. 

"Yes, I... I'm not feeling at my best, today," he  said, though he was not exactly _lying_. "Perhaps that would be a good idea." 

"I'll get her over here, don't worry, lacy bits," she winks, leaning back inside. "You go home and sleep on this shite, before I make ya." 

"As you say, Head Waitress," he mocked, forcing a smile and she laughed as she departed. He'd hung up on Varric a while ago, but the warm phone was still pressed tight to his ear. 

Perhaps a day off was what Dorian needed after all of this. Yes, some time to think. Some time to sit in his apartment, watch Grey's Anatomy with Lucius, and forget about the problems of the outside world. With a little bit of that dark chocolate, cranberry ice cream he'd stuffed in the back of the freezer for a special occasion... maybe all was not lost after all. 

When he finally arrived at home, he didn't hesitate to tear off his clothes, put on one of his fuzzy robes, and throw himself onto his couch. Lucius was happy to see his best friend home so early, and he eagerly curled up at his side: purring with content. Yet, as Dorian turned on his favorite show and popped a spoon of ice cream into his mouth, his gaze lingered on the phone. Had Bull really settled the debt between Dorian and Felix? Was their divorce officially... final? 

He set the container on the coffee table and dialed the lawyer's number, heart leaping into his throat as he waited to hear that familiar click. When he did, he spoke before the other man even got the chance to. "Has there been a payment toward the claim?" he asked, almost breathlessly. 

"Who is this?" the lawyer did not seem amused. Of course, he never was. 

"Dorian Pavus, should ring a bell," he stammered. "Please, answer my question, has there been a payment toward the claim or not?" 

The other man hummed, and Dorian could hear the sound of clicking on a keyboard and papers being lazily shuffled about on his desk. "Hm, there has. The claim has been settled, completely paid off." 

"So, that means-" 

"Yes, the divorce will be final as soon as Mr. Alexius signs the last of the paperwork," the attorney huffed. "You've been given full rights to Imperial Gardens and the building it resides in, the car purchased under your name, the boat also purchased under your name, and the... the Cornish Rex. Are you satisfied with these terms?" 

"Yes," he beamed. "Very." 

"Then, that concludes our business."

When the lawyer finally hung up, Dorian felt like a bird finally freed from it's cage. He was... unbound. Unchained. From depression, from abusive relationships, from this blighted divorce, and, praise Andraste, from debt. The only thing is... the person he had to thank for all of this was the Iron Bull. 

He still had the note with the phone number on it, laying forgotten on the coffee table. Would it be such a bad idea? Dorian never _properly_ thanked him, after all, and had left The Chargers in a rush. He knew that the Iron Bull cared not for his gratitude but it wouldn't sit right with Dorian if he just accepted the donations silently. Besides, feeling as good as he felt, this was the best moment for this, if any. 

He paused, hand hovering over his phone as he peered hesitantly back toward the kitchen of his dismal little flat. Well, not before he got himself sufficiently wasted first, of course. 

 

* * *

 

Bull had never thought he'd be the type, but he'd taken a great passion in caring for Spike after adopting Krem. He'd fantasized about dragons as a child, such fantasies were unproductive in the eyes of his caretakers and they were swept beneath a rug. Scratching Spike's chin, tossing him chunks of chicken and watching him swallow it whole... it was like a missing part of his youth being re-kindled. 

"Hey, Chief," Krem called, pulling his father's attention away from the lizard as it licked chicken juice from the qunari's thick fingers.  

"Hm?" Bull was, obviously, only half-way paying attention.

"Somethin' I gotta know?" the boy asked, openly suspicious.

"What're you talking about, kid?" he looked up now, leaning back to rest his elbow on the back of the chair that he sat in, Spike perched elegantly on the table before him. 

"I dunno, maybe you an' the 'Vint from across the street," he mocked a shrug, but the frown on his face didn't waver. "You were awfully friendly to him." 

"We're adults, Krem, this isn't some kind of TV show," Bull grunted. "We might not like each other, even hate each other, but that doesn't mean we can't treat one another with dignity and respect. Something you should learn." 

"So, ogling him like that as he walked in... that's respect, huh?" 

"Did I ever tell you about him, Krem?" he asked, turning the subject around a little bit. 

Krem narrowed his eyes impossibly more. "No? What about him? You're acting awful soft here, Chief." 

"Shut up," he huffed, only continuing when Krem finally stopped smirking. "We were married once. Ten years ago, when we both lived in Tevinter. Minrathous, to be specific." 

The boy staggers in his place and he grabs hold of the nearest chair; quickly recovering and standing as though he'd never faltered at all. "So... you two are mortal enemies, yeah? But you're saying that once upon a time you two stood on the primrose alter and exchanged _vows?_ " 

"Yep," Bull hummed as his gaze drifted back to Spike, letting his fingers linger on the animal's back as he stroked the smooth skin with the gentle touch of a mother. "Not quite like that though, it was a really long time ago."

"Weren't you with the Qun then, like working for them, I mean?" Krem finally sat down, deciding on the seat across from Bull, but also beside the lizard who'd laid his head down on the surface and had slowly begun to fall asleep.  

"Yep, Ben-hassrath, military work, top secret and all that. Posing as a body guard trying to raise money for a coffee shop. It was an easy role to play, not too far from the truth," he began, smiling a little at the memory. "Met Dorian at this burlesque show, had one every Saturday night. Couldn't miss the theatre, at least three stories with a huge cracked bell on the roof. I went because I hooked up with the dancers out back, yknow, not unlike what I might do now. But...." he hesitated, slowly letting his mouth fall shut once more. 

"Dorian was two seats away, looking like a kid peeping up at a shooting star as the dancers, guys and girls yknow, put on their show. I hate saying it, but all I could look at was him. Then, when he stood up and I saw that _ass_... it sealed the deal." 

"Don't give me the sex details, please," Krem said with a disgusted groan. "Just... did he know? Like about your work?" 

"Nope, couldn't tell him or they'd kick me out. Make me Tal-Vashoth," he said, mouth going dry. "Felt things for that man I haven't ever let myself feel for anybody else. We were married for five years before the Qun caught up. I was leaving all the time; going to Par Vollen for meetings, recon, things like that. More top secret bullshit. Dorian thought I was cheating. I had to tell him the truth." 

"And he dumped you for it?" the other arched an eyebrow. 

"Didn't dump me for the truth," Bull grumbled. "Dumped me because I lied." 

"You still have feelings for him," Krem declared, a grin sprouting over his cheeks. 

"I... no," Bull denied, stumbling over his tongue. 

"You can't dodge that one, Chief. Paid for the guy's divorce and bought him a brand new fryer. What's next? A ring?" 

"How'd you know about that, Krem?" his voice lowered. 

"Did a little easedropping," Krem hummed with pride. "Well, it's almost seven, and I gotta meet Maryden at the library. Better get going." 

"Uhuh, don't run any stop signs this time, got it?"

"Whatever, Chief." 

As his son left, fear bubbled in the pit of Bull's stomach. What if he had been right? What if he did still have feelings for Dorian after all these years of being apart? He'd never had any serious relationships, just one-night stands and maybe once or twice somebody would come back for a double. He never let anyone too close aside from Krem.

He clenched his fist, looking up at his sleeping lizard and frowning. No, he wouldn't let himself be so weak, so easily manipulated. He was Ben-Hassrath once after all, those blood pressure pills he had to take in the morning and the constant aching in his back from age did nothing to change that fact. He was a soldier once, he would not succumb so easily. 

Gently slipping Spike back into the enclosure, Bull retreated to the basement where he kept his workout equipment, it was his best method for relieving stress like this. The doctor told him it was awful for his heart, but he didn't have one shit to give.

Grabbing a punching bag from the corner, he hung it up and it wasn't long before he let the first fist connect. He found himself slowly slipping out of his thoughts and into his own personal zone, tranquilized by the pattern of his own punches as the bag lurched violently back with each one. One of his knuckles had turned purple eventually, but he didn't care. He just kept swinging. 

He snapped out of it, though, when he heard his phone beep softly at him from one of the side tables off to the side. Fearing it had been Krem, he stopped everything he was doing to go check. However, it wasn't Krem. It was a text from an unknown number that read: 

_**UNKNOWN #:**  This is Dorian, I've just gotten off of the phone with my attorney and I wanted to thank you once again for everything you've done for me. I acknowledge that you did so selfishly, but that does not lessen my gratitude. _

Bull read the text over a few times before it finally weighed on him. So, Dorian had noticed the phone number on the note. He hadn't thought twice about the other man's hasty retreat earlier that morning, but perhaps Dorian was using it as an excuse to text Bull without seeming to forward. Sly dog...

_**BULL:** don't stress about it, big guy. though, i wouldn't complain if you felt like you needed to 'express your gratitude' in other ways... _

_**BULL:**  anyway- saw you gettin sick out front of your place, did you make it home okay? _

Moving right past the flirting, so that Dorian could avoid it if he wished but also acknowledge it if he wanted to. He'd been persistent about their little tryst being a meaningless one-night stand, but Bull was getting mixed signals. Especially right about now. 

_**DORIAN:** I did, actually, thank you for asking. I'm doing quite alright, you shouldn't be concerned. _

_**BULL:** mhm. so, i'm hoping you thank me for all this by putting on a hell of an event at christmas time, make it a challenge for me. _

_**DORIAN:** I highly doubt that's all that you're hoping for.  _

_**BULL:** oh really? well, you're not wrong. krem's out with his girl-whatever and the house is pretty lonely. could think of plenty of ways that i'd like you to thank me right about now. _

_**DORIAN:** Krem... is that your son? _

_**BULL:** son by choice, yep. the one and only. _

_**DORIAN:** I see._

There's a lull in the conversation that prompts Bull to start typing up another smooth pick up line when suddenly the phone beeps again and an attachment swims it's way up the screen.

_**DORIAN:** and, since you mentioned it, my apartment is rather lonesome as well. _

Looking at the picture, Bull can hardly believe this is happening. He wants to pinch himself, to escape from this dream before it has the potential to make him too sad when he wakes up to deal with his hard on.

It was Dorian, in a bathroom, drab and simple... not at all his style. This was a temporary place, somewhere to stay during the mayhem of the divorce. Dorian stood shirtless, posing infront of the mirror as though he's hardly aware that he'd photographing himself. He was biting his lip, neck turned to expose the hickey that Bull had left the night before, and one hip was resting on the sink. There was a black and white filter, of course, there always was, but Bull could still see that goddamn patch of silver in his temples. It's maddeningly erotic. 

He hesitated, however... to send a picture like this to some one like Bull, given their 'status', was very un-Dorian-like behavior. He examined the picture again, noting the darker tone in his cheeks, the glimmer of sweat beading on his forehead, and the way that his hands are somewhat awkwardly positioned. It was very subtle, but the signs were definitely there.

As much as he would like to tell Dorian just how hot he was in this photo and everything he'd like to do to him... he couldn't. He wouldn't take advantage of Dorian, and, after all, the human in the picture was the one who'd said that their escapade meant nothing anyways. 

_**BULL:** sounds like you're drunk. looks like it too. you probably popped open one of those bottles of that antivan brandy you stash in the back of your cabinets, don't blame you. got shit to celebrate. _

_**DORIAN:** How do you know I keep Antivan brandy in the back of my cabinets?_

_**BULL:** old habits die hard, especially alcohol related ones. _

_**DORIAN:** Well, you have absolutely no proof that I'm intoxicated. _

_**BULL:** hm? pretty sure the fact of you sending that picture is proof enough, big guy. _

_**DORIAN:** I hate you so much. You're the biggest jack ass I have ever known. _

_**BULL:** awh, i'm flattered. _

_**DORIAN:** You're the heaving lummox who dropped the first suggestion. _

_**BULL:** mhm, and i meant it, but i'd also assumed you'd be sober. this makes more sense though, sober-dorian would've stopped texting me after that. _

_**DORIAN:** What makes you so sure of that, hm? Ben-hassrath training? _

_**BULL:** you said it didn't mean anything, just holding you to your word. _

_**DORIAN:** I hate you. _

_**BULL:** said that already, big guy. _

_**DORIAN:** I don't know why I thought to text you, you're as brutish and thuggish as ever, unchanged in the slightest. _

_**BULL:** expect somethin else from your arch-enemy? _

_**DORIAN:** Good night. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter coming soon! i had lots of fun writing this haha. please leave a comment if you liked! nothing keeps me writing like your feedback.


	5. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OFF I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SOOOOOO UNUSUALLY LONG (half a year fuck me) i got so busy with so many other things.... NOT ABANDONING THIS THOUGH, i REFUSE to abandon this. so, here we are, and hopefully you wont have to wait this long next time....

_"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets."_

— Arthur Miller

 

Today started off as a pretty good day for Iron Bull. 

When he arrived for work, he was able to catch a glimpse of Dorian walking down the sidewalk as he went to unlock the doors. He openly oggled the other mans.... assetts... and Dorian must have noticed because he scowled and flipped a bird in his direction when Bull smirked and winked. 

It was a busy day, but not busy enough to pull him from his office. He managed to get most of the paper work for the Christmas donation campaigns done, and he'd already had people bringing in toys and clothing donations (these were usually harder to get). This year was starting to look to be a good one, and as he sent the last email, he couldn't have been more ecstatic.

He went home to have a pretty good work out and find some left over roast in the back of the fridge (his _favorite_ ), and he even shared some with Spike. He was so used to Decembers being crammed and painfully stressful that this was... nice. Really nice. He almost wished he had more days like this. 

His glow, however, was extinguished when he'd recieved a phone call from the principle at Krem's school. 

 "Is this Mr. Hisraad Arvarad?" 

Damn it, he hated his real name. Why did the Qun have to give people such stupid ass names? "Yep, that's me, but I thought I told you people at orientation to just call me 'Bull'? It's not Hisraad anymore." 

"Hm, quite, I apologize Mr...." he hesitated. " _Bull_."

"You're good. So, what's going on?" 

"It's about Cremisius, I'm afraid," the principle replied flatly, without concern or even a sign of living to his voice. "He physically attacked one of his classmates between periods, damaged school property and nearly knocked his classmate unconscious. For such violent behavior, he will be suspended from attending school for a week's time. If this behavior is not corrected upon his return, I'm afraid it is school policy that he must then be expelled."

"Attacked?" he snorted, not sure if he should believe what he was hearing. "Can I get any context for this? Like... _why_ did he do it? _Who_ did he to it to?" 

"I'm afraid I cannot provide that information," he said. "I mean only to inform you that your son is not allowed on school property, and that you will be able to retrieve his daily homework from our front desk." 

"Right, so I'm guessing I have to go and pick him up too? And sign him out?"

"Correct." 

"Great, awesome. Thanks." 

He groaned in frustration as he hung up the phone, walking over to the coffee table to get the keys for his bike. "I'll be home soon," he called back, assumably to Spike, but the lizard was contently asleep on his perch, paying no attention. 

If there wasn’t a good reasoning for any of this, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to _kill_ Krem. Life had handed the kid a rough set of cards and he had to do what ever it took to survive. Even though things were better now, those instincts were still there. Scars from trauma that would never truly go away, as much as Bull did to try and help them heal. 

He remembered the day he met the kid, and brought him home. It wasn’t long after his divorce with Dorian, he’d just opened up the Chargers, and the horizon was finally starting to look a little brighter. Krem was just seven, a runaway from Minrathous who’d snuck onto a food delivery truck in hopes of finding a new place to call home. Fate brought him to Bull, and the two were inseperable since. 

When they decided that Bull would officially adopt Krem and take him as his legal son, they made a promise to one another that Bull was _not_ his father. Bull was his guardian by choice. Qunari, for one, didn’t have parents. For two, Krem’s parents were the reason he snuck onto that food truck in the first place. The comfort in the words “mom” or “dad” was an absent concept to both of them, so it was a mutual agreement with no argument from either side. 

Bull was just “Chief”, or “Bull” if the situation was serious enough. Bull had way too many nicknames for Krem, but he couldn’t think so fondly of those silly names when he remembered the fact that he was on his way ti pick Krem up because he’d been given and out of school suspension. Again.

He entered the school and filled out the paperwork in total silence. Krem was waiting in a chair with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, though he relaxed when the Qunari entered. Bull grumbled a “hey” as he wrote his signiture, turning towards Krem and thrusting his helmet out towards him. 

Krem got the hint. Now wasn’t the time for talking, they’d talk when they got home. 

They road back to the house in silence, but it was hard to have a conversation on the motorcycle anyways. However, Krem knew Bull like the back of his hand at this point. He was completely locked up in his shoulders, his knuckles white from gripping the handlebars. He was pissed, and he sort of had a right to be. This was the third time now that Krem had been sent home because of something like this. He could only imagine how frustrated the chief must have been with him at this point. Would he ground him? He'd never really been grounded before. 

When they arrived, Iron Bull parked the bike in the garage, setting up the kick-stand with more force than necessary, making Krem frown. Bull pulled off his helmet for him with the tender hands of a mother, however, as if Krem couldn't remove it himself. They met eyes for a moment, staring intensely at one another, neither knowing quite what they were supposed to say in this situation. Eventually, Bull huffed and stepped back, setting the helmet on the shelf and running his hand over his head in frustration. "What happened, Krem?" he finally asked, not looking at the teenager in question. 

There was so much to the story. Krem wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer. He licked his lips and idly shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. "The kids at school, they just..." he began, but hesitated, letting out a breath of air through his nose. "I was walking to my last class of the day, okay, and I had to go through that courtyard between the buildings, you know? I saw Maryden sitting at one of the benches, practicing her guitar. She didn't see me, so I was sort of watching her play, you know. Then that Sampson kid came over and started talking to her. He was obviously bothering her, so I went over there to tell him to screw off and leave her alone. 

"He wouldn't have it. He grabbed her hair and started taunting her, she shoved him away and told him that he was a piece of shit. Which, she's right, he totally is. Then, he grabbed her guitar and started taunting her with it. I moved to stop him and before I could do anything he just... he smashed it. He smashed it like it was nothing. Like her whole livelihood wasn't invested in that thing. So, I did what any reasonable person would do. I knocked his god damn teeth out." 

Iron bull stood silent for a moment, processing all of this information and nodding slowly to himself, finally meeting Krem's eyes. "Which teeth and how many?"

Krem felt a little glimmer of pride at this, and he gestured to his own mouth. "A molar right here, and then these two teeth on the bottom." 

Bull laughed loudly, hand on his belly like it was when he was _really_ laughing about something. Krem laughed too, feeling a grin coming across his face. 

"That's my boy," he said, reaching over to clamp a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into his arms and holding him tightly. Krem was suffocated by his chest, but he chuckled and returned the embrace. As best as he could, anyways. "I just wish I could have been there. I would have brought those teeth home and framed them." 

"That's disgusting," Krem said as they pulled away from one another, though he was still smiling. "God, I was so ready for you to ground me or something." 

"Ground you? Fuck, Krem, I haven't been this proud since you passed that driving exam," Iron Bull declared, still shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What was that video game you wanted? Overwash? Doverwatch?" 

"...Overwatch?"   
  
"We're going and buying it right now. This is an occasion worth celebrating," Bull said, grabbing the keys to the bike again. "Get your helmet on so we can get going before it starts raining."  
  
Krem hesitated for a moment, looking back at the helmet on the table. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, but he wiped them quickly away. He slowly took the helmet and pulled it on, strapping the chin as he heard the motorcycle engine begin to roar. He didn't know what he'd do without the Chief. How he ever survived without him. Bull felt the same way. Krem was his son, even if they didn't share blood. He would never stop being proud of him, especially now, when he couldn't feel more blessed to have him in his life. 

 

* * *

 

Despite all the recent drama in his life, Dorian decided to take his Sunday to appreciate the gift he had recently been given. Not the person that gave it to him. That thought didn’t matter at the moment. What _mattered_ was his freedom from debt, his freedom from an abusive marriage, and his free date to the salon that Vivienne had offered him earlier this week: a date he wouldn’t miss for the world. 

They’d met up outside of Imperial Gardens when they’d closed for the day. On Sundays, he usually closed up around 3 o’clock once the last of the church going folk had been ushered out. So, there was still quite a bit of the day left a head of them as they walked together up the block to the place that Vivienne had mentioned. They made small talk, about work, the coming Christmas season and their personal plans for it; things like that. 

Once there and after they had been settled in, Dorian realized just how desperately he had been needing this. Even as he was sat in a chair and leaned back just to have his hair washed and prepared for the dye that would cover his grey hairs, he was overwhelmed with bliss. The feeling of finger nails massaging his scalp worked out every bit of his tension and it was downright heavenly. That is, until Vivienne’s voice broke him from his trance. 

“So, you’re a man free of debt,” she said with a hum as the woman at her side began to prepare her face with a clay mask. “A brand new deep fat frier, an ex-husband kicked to the curb, and you even got to keep your boat. I also found it very strange how little Varric would tell me about all this. And we _both_ know how much that dwarf likes to talk. Tell me, darling, what sort of angel is hovering over your shoulder, hm? And could you share? I have some student loans that need wrapping up.” 

“Hilarious, Vivienne, truly,” he snorted, lip curling but he didn’t open his eyes to look at her. He was trying his best to focus on the feeling of the fingers in his hair. “But I don’t kow what you’re talking about. I have no ‘angel’ of any metaphorical or literal kind.” 

“Dorian, please, I’m your _book keeper_. You can’t honestly expect me not to notice these things,” she scoffed, laughing aloud. “Don’t play coy with me, dear.” 

He pressed his lips into a flat line, not answering her for a moment. He sat in silence, sorting through his thoughts as the hair dresser began to put a familiar paste on his temples. 

“Bull. It was Bull.” 

Now it was Vivienne’s turn to fall silent. Dorian was tempted to open his eyes and turn to her, just to see the look on her face, maybe try to decipher her thoughts, but he resisted. 

“Now, that I was _not_ expecting,” she said eventually. “Did he give you a reason for this gesture? Do you believe he may be trying to win back your favor, what with Alexius out of the picture?” 

Dorian hadn’t considered the latter. Rather... he hadn’t wanted to consider the latter. Was he too proud? Too afraid? 

“I... don’t know. I don’t really want to know, truthfully,” he grumbled. Why did Vivienne have to ruin his nice spa day by bringing up topics like this? Could he have one moment of peace? 

“Well, I won’t prod, but take a word of advice. You’re forty. You’re a full-time business owner. You’ve been divorced twice and you’ve nearly went bankrupt more often than that. You have your issues with Bull, which is understandable. However, he’s financially stable. He has a house. He’s in the same line of work that you are and best of all of those he’s available. To top it off, there is a strong possibility that he’s interested in you. You won’t find many chances like this at your age. If this one passes you, another may never come again.” 

“Sage advice from a married woman,” Dorian tutted with a notable huff. “Besides, it’s likely he’s only interested in getting me into bed.” ‘ _Which he has,’_ he mentally added, scolding himself again for allowing that to happen. 

“And what’s wrong with sex, my dear? It may help you loosen up, I might say.” 

Dorian suddenly felt a little flustered, having this conversation in front of a bunch of gossiping cosmetologists. 

“I don’t want him to think that I’m easy. That he can just push the right buttons and get what he wants out of me despite what he’s done. That he can just make me forget it with his honeyed words and his... his money. I won’t have it,” he confessed, stunned at the words that were leaving his mouth, but it was too late to retract them. 

“Then make him fight for it,” she concluded, as though the answer were simple as day. “Don’t give yourself out easily. Make him crave you as though you are a diamond amidst the mud. Give only enough to keep him guessing, and that’s when you’ll know what his true intentions are.” 

Dorian was about to make a smart comment, but he hesitated, processing the information. She... she actually made a very good point. 

“All done,” the hair stylist finally said, giving Dorian’s hair a final run through with her fingers before removing the tarp from around his neck. “Would you like to see?” 

“Yes, please, thank you,” he hummed, pulled out of his thoughts by her words. 

She nodded and smiled, turning his chair towards the mirror so that he could face his reflection, and he felt his heart rate increasing a little. They’d done a fantastic job with his hair, it was like he’d never begun to silver at all. It’d been so long since he’d dyed it that looking at himself now made him feel emboldened. Like he was suddenly ten years younger. 

Vivienne turned to look as well, smirking as the last bit of her face mask was cleaned off and she thanked the stylist for her work. 

“You are a desireable man, Dorian,” she cooed, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “Use it to your benefit.”

 

* * *

 

After the salon, he’d spent the remainder of his night back in his office filling out more paperwork for the Christmas banquet. He resigned himself to quit it when the clock struck midnight, turning off his computer monitor and sloppily shoving his paperwork into a corner away from the keyboard. 

“Do you feel better, Mr. Pavus?”

Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin at the words. He turned on his hip, the wheels of his office chair nearly failing to spin as he faced the familiar boy standing behind him: blond hair all in a disarray. 

“Cole! _Fasta vass,_ why on _Earth_ are you still here?” he questioned. “We closed at _two!”_  

Cole blinked at him in silence for a long moment, as if he’d forgotten what he’d been asked. 

“It’s warm in here,” he said eventually. “Outside it’s very cold.” 

Dorian huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Wouldn’t you want to go home after a long day at work, Cole? Get out of the kitchen, get in a bed?”

 “I don’t have a bed,” he said. “I couldn’t pay my rent, so now I decided to stay here. I don’t have to pay rent to be at work.” 

Dorian absorbed all of this information with a tight expression, forefinger tapping loudly on his now abandonned paper work as the gears in his mind steadily turned.

Cole had essentially just confessed to being homeless. What was Dorian to do? Turn him away when he was clearly in need? He could hardly tell the boy to sleep among the night’s garbage and or the sacks of potatoes. 

“Just... come with me when I leave, Cole,” Dorian sighed. “I’d rather you sleep on my couch than attempt to find somewhere to sleep in the kitchen.” 

Cole fell silent again, staring at his boss in a way that seemed as though he was staring _through_ him rather than towards him.

Then, he murmured quietly, a sincere: “Thank you.” 

“But you didn’t answer my question,” he added, meeting Dorian’s eyes with his own; ones that still seemed to peer right into his soul. “Do you feel better?” 

Dorian pressed his lips together in a line, fingers tapping on the desk as he averted the boy’s gaze once again, eyes fixating themselves instead on the mess of paperwork before him and the forgotten keyboard. 

“A little,” he answered finally. He grabbed his car keys from a hook along the wall and stood up from his desk chair, the broken wheels skidding along the floor. “Come on, Cole. Let’s get some sleep. We have a lot of work ahead of us in the next few weeks.” 

“Yes,” Cole agreed, nodding his head once but never blinking as he did so. He followed Dorian out the door and the lights to the kitchen flicked off behind them.

The car ride was mostly silent. Dorian had turned the radio down slightly as not to be rude in attempting to drown out the boy’s presence in the passanger seat with blaring music. Cole stared out the window with an expression of stone, big eyes glistening with the reflection of passing lights and colorful signs for night-time establishments. At some point, without looking at Dorian, he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Why do you hate The Iron Bull?” 

Dorian’s grip on the wheel tightened. Cole had always been the type to ask those sort of questions. He was shameless in his observations of others, and he was so good at reading peoples’ emotions that it was almost frightening. However, why at a time like this? Did Dorian not deserve _one_ moment of peace? 

“I do not _hate_ The Iron Bull,” was what he ended up saying, gaze locked on the road. 

“I know,” Cole replied, unphased by Dorian’s answer. “But you act like you do. Why?” 

“Must we have this conversation, Cole?” he huffed. “I am utterly exhausted.” 

“You think about it a lot. I can tell. Won’t talking about it make it better?” 

“Not all problems are solved so easily, Cole. You’ll understand once you’re older.” 

“Is that why you’re afraid?” 

Dorian paused again. 

“Afraid, Cole?” 

“You’re afraid that you’ll never be in love again after Mr. Alexius.” 

“Ah. Well, Cole, it seems we’ve arrived at my apartment building,” Dorian turned off the car engine with a click and grabbed his bag of paperwork, tossing it over one shoulder as he climbed out. “I’m on the third floor. I should have some clothes that you can sleep in so we can wash what you have on currently for tomorrow. Is that alright with you, Cole?” 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

 When Dorian finished fumbling with his keys and the door swung open, he saw his cat asleep peacefully on the couch, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the island counter, put into a petite glass vase with a ribbon around he neck. He’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe. 

“Who are the flowers from?” Cole asked as he let himself in, tilting his head towards them. 

“Take off your shoes, Cole. My bathroom is over there, go take off your dirty clothes and I’ll bring you some clean ones,” he said, dodging the question. 

“Okay.” 

As Cole disappeared behind the door, shoes still on, Dorian moved closer to the bouquet. He walked with measured footsteps as though he were approaching an angry cobra, reared and ready to strike. There was a tiny note attached to the ribbon and he felt his heart fall.

He recognized that signature. 

Should he even open it? Should he just throw the flowers away?

No. These are a kind gesture. The divorce was finalized, it was over. Paid for. Done. There was no harm in reading this small note attached to this... beautiful arrangement of roses.

He gently pulled the tape away and opened up the small note, reading the contents to himself:

”I’m sorry for how things ended, but I must admit I am relieved that it is all over. If you’ve a mind, I’d like to indulge you with dinner one last time, so we may have a proper, polite goodbye. I believe you deserve that much.

Sincerely, Felix Alexius.”  

Dorian stared down at the words that were written and he could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. Why had the Maker felt the need to take this man from him? Why must he have snatched from his hands the very man that he loved? 

“Dorian? I need clean clothes,” a voice called from behind the bathroom door.

He sighed.

He would get over this. He would move on. He could only become even stronger after this, he reminded himself. He would grow into a better person. Not a good person, perhaps, but a better one. 

“I’m coming, Cole,” he called back, setting the note on the counter. “Just one moment.” 

He turned to go and grab clothes from his room for Cole but he stopped to stare at the flowers again. Cole was right. He was afraid. He was absolutely terrified. 

“Dorian?” 

“I’m coming!” 

And with that, Dorian turned his back and went to tend to his business, leaving the flowers alone in the kitchen as he disappeared in the hall. 


End file.
